The Man Who Can't Be Moved
by Daysi5
Summary: Two years pass, and Josh is still thinking about Cammie. So he goes to the Roseville carnival. Song-fic and one-shot. R


Man who can't be Moved

A/N::: So, I listened to this song and wondered, 'Josh would do that, wouldn't he?' and then my mind gears started turning and BAM! This happened. XP R&R and enjoy! (btw the song is The Man who can't be moved by The Script)

Disclaimer::: … I don't own the song or the series.

zzzNzzz

Josh p.o.v

_Going Back to the corner where I first saw you  
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag I'm not gonna move_

I sat on a bench. A bench closest to where I first saw _her. _Not doing anything but watching people going by, in groups or in pairs. I was just some boy in a black sweater with the hood up, listening to his I-pod, minding his own business, passbyers hardly giving me a second glance. I watched a happy, giddy couple stroll by, toddlers tugging at their parents to ride rides they wouldn't even be able to get on. I heard balloons being popped, a clown taunting people passing by him around the corner. Smelled cotton candy and hot dogs with condiments. Felt the wooden bench biting into my back and butt. But the one thing, or person, I really wanted to smell, hear and feel wasn't here.

_I know it makes no sense but what else can I do  
How can I move on when I'm still in love with you_

I tried to conjure an image of Dee Dee, and telling her I loved her, but failed. I could see her, standing there, in a pink frilly dance, the way I saw her at prom. She looked beautiful. But I couldn't see me. I couldn't see myself telling her that I loved her. I could hear a voice whispering, "I love you," but it didn't sound honest or truthful. It sounded forced, with a kind of… sadness behind it. We weren't supposed to be. Even if Dillon thought we were great, I saw the jealousy behind his eyes, how he wanted her to wrap her arms around him like she did to me. I knew he liked her since she moved here in first grade, so I tried staying away from her. But I also knew she liked me, even though I'd made it clear I didn't like her. But it was different now. I was… broken-hearted, and she took up the chance to "help me heal." She'd said, "Please, Josh. I just want to help you. Just let me in, please?" and I did, because I didn't know what else to do.

Now, I took a deep breath. I let one song play over and over on my I-pod, the one that described how I felt. I cleared my mind, closed my eyes and lowered my head, thinking of only two words; love, and girl. Slowly, she came to mind, piece by piece, as if she was a puzzle and the pieces were scattered around in my head, and I had to slowly put the image in my head. Piece her carefully, or it'd get all messed up.

The first piece that came to mind was her lush hair. Honey-blonde, with different colored streaks, a light blonde with a brown-blonde. And then slowly, her face came; soft hazel eyes, that held so much behind them, as if she lived in her own world, and saw the world with eyes of a different perspective. Her strong straight nose, her soft pink lips. Her high cheek bones, how her cheeks flushed when I complimented her. The curves of her body, how it fit up against mine when I held her. The way her hands fit perfectly with mine. Her fit body, as if she'd been doing gymnastics all her life. The way her lips felt on mine. Such average looks, the blonde, drop dead gorgeousness, and yet I couldn't stop thinking about her. She was undeniably, the love of my life.

_Cause If one day you wake up and find your missing me  
and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be_

That's why I was sitting on this bench. What if, she'd suddenly remembered me, after two years, and decided she'd wanted to see me? She wouldn't know where to start. Of course, my house. But these three days of the Roseville carnival, she'd know that was the place to start. The corner, curb, the street. She'd know to start there, I just know it.

Because I could see her now, standing in front of me, smiling that sweet smile of hers that makes me love her even more. She'd be reaching out her hand to me. "Josh," she'd say. "I love you." And it wasn't hard to tell her back, that I loved her too. Not hard, like it is with Dee Dee, how it hurts every time she tells me it, but I don't respond, changing the topic quickly. It was a relief, like lifting off a big burden, telling her. It was what I'd wanted to tell her the first day I saw her, going through the trash can to my left. But I would've freaked her out. It wouldn't sound dishonest. If anything, it would be truthful. I reach out to her outstretched fingers, only to pass through them, as if she was a ghost, a simple figment of my imagination. Because that's how she feels. She came, stole my heart, and left, dropping it and stepping on it on her way to Zach.

I balled my fist, as if catching a bug as I got strange looks from people, wondering why that emo-looking kid was reaching out to nothing. She quickly dispersed, leaving my with my outstretched clenched hand, wondering, hoping she'd come, whispering "I wish you were here."

…_maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet  
And you'll see me waiting for you on our corner of the street  
So I'm not moving, I'm not moving_

"Hey man, there you are!" I look up and see Dillon walking up to me. When he gets near, his eyebrows shoot up. "You heard me with that sad sappy song blasting in your ear?" he joked. I flushed, only slightly. But I quickly put on a smile for my quietly mourning friend.

"Hey man." We pound fists and he sits next to me, his posture relaxed and carefree, mine tense and ready to jump the next blonde girl that passes. Again, his eyebrows go up as he takes in my black sweater, jeans and hood.

"Dude, what's with the whole black gothic look? You goin' emo on me or somethin'?" he looks at me as if I'm some diseased rare creature.

"Maybe," I joke. "Why? You have somethin' against emos? Or black?" He just rolls his eyes and leans in towards me, his elbow resting on his brought-up knew.

"So, look," his voice is low, as if he's trying to sell "expensive oregano" to me. "Me the rest of the guys are ditching the carnival and heading over to Angela Briskley's blow out party. Wanna come?" I try looking disappointed, but it's hard with his eager face looking at me. Truth is I'm not a party goer. Never have been, and probably never will be. I don't want to get all drunk or hook up with anyone. I like dancing, but I'm not good at _their_ definitions of dancing.

"Naw man, I can't. Dee Dee's running a booth and I gotta stick around and wait for her. But after her shift, we'll probably head over." I hated lying to my best friend, but he wouldn't understand. He hates Cammie, and he hates seeing me like this. But I don't care. She… she was my everything.

"Alright then. Catch ya later then?" He held out his fist. And I stared at it for a second. He didn't suspect anything. He didn't suspect that I didn't love her. He didn't suspect that I loved another girl. But he didn't need to know. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

"Yeah man." We pounded fists again and he left. But I stayed. And waited. Even when Dee Dee came up behind me, and said we could go, I lied and said I was waiting for Dillon. Her smile fell but she brightened up and left. I knew she liked him as well. All is fair and love is war. And I waited.

_Maybe you won't mean to but you'll see me on the news  
And you'll come running to the corner  
cause you'll know it's just for you  
I'm the man who can't be moved_

I'm not gonna move.

zzzNzzz

A/N::: So? Good? Bad? Review. A sentence or two, or just a couple words is fine. Critiques are welcomed. :D

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